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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30135264">A life with willie</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/asTHEDUDEas/pseuds/asTHEDUDEas'>asTHEDUDEas</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Dukes of Hazzard (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:02:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,220</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30135264</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/asTHEDUDEas/pseuds/asTHEDUDEas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The title says it all. From meeting in a run down Tavern to your funeral, this story will take you on a wild ride through your life with Willie Nelson.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. PROLOGUE</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>FOREWORD</p>
<p>      I've decided to make this book because Willie Nelson is cool. Also, as a fellow proud Texan, I love country music and media. Willie Nelson is amazing, and I love him as an artist, as well as a person. This book is supposed to be ironic, though a small part of me wishes it isn't. Overall, Willie Nelson is great, and I want to put my time and effort into something involving him. </p>
<p>            I will try to make this book gender neutral, because I rather dislike it when an author makes an "____ x reader" without specifying gender and assuming the reader is female. Anyways, get ready for this hell of a book. [I apologise in advance for any NSFW content in this book]<br/>       Without further ado, onto the book</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was a rather sunny day in Abbott, Texas. Despite the weather, it wasn't very exciting of a day. It was 1933, and the Great Depression had swept through the United States just four years earlier. On this day, a child was born. <br/>      It's been over a decade since that day. The infant grew to a toddler, then to a kid, then to a teenager. This teenager, along with it's family, are now traveling to a farm. They go to this farm every summer to pick cotton, along with many of the other citizens of Abbott. Picking cotton is, quite literally, back-breaking work, often leaving the unlucky people who do it with sore backs, sun burns, and scratched up hands, the last symptom appearing if they aren't experienced. Though, there are, on occasion, fun times to be had.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. After the Summer of 1947</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You find a young Willie Nelson in a tavern and gain an interest in him.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It's been a hard summer. After bending at the waist, dragging a seventy pound sack, and scrapin' up my hands as a full time job for 'bout three months, it's perty good to be back in town. After goin' home, I enter my room and retrieve a couple o' five cent pieces. Normally, I'd be havin' supper at this time, but we ain't on that cotton farm no more. I end up wandering the streets of town, wondering I should do. As a kid, I'd naturally want to be like an adult. This leads me to a tavern.<br/>      As I approach the local tavern, I get anxious and start doubting whether or not I should really be going in there. I grab all o' them emotions by the neck and stuff 'em in the darkest corner o' my mind. Walking in, I look at my surroundings. The place reeks o' tobaccy' an' alcohol, 'specially cause it's plumb near evenin'. <br/>      As I'm traipsing through this unfamiliar territory, I hear a young boy singin' his heart out near the back o' the bar. Naturally, I begin ta' stumble towards the source. <br/>      Thinking back ta' them dime novels I love so much, them drunkards kinda remind me o' them 'paches, with how they're yellin' and fightin'. The ocean o' chaos seems ta' part as I'm a walkin' through. Nearin' the boy, I notice he's aroun' my age. He's got this odd light red-brown hair an' these strikin' hazel eyes. After a moment, I realize I'm starin', so I pop a squat on the floor across from him and flip what little money I have in his direction. The boy finishes his song an' looks at me as if ta' thank me. I swiftly stand an' nod curtly at him, like a real gentleman or somethin'. I walk away all cool like, eventually leavin' the bar an' makin' my way out inta' the cold night air. <br/>    Headin' home, I think about Ma and Pa, and if they're worried 'bout me. I'm willin' ta' bet that Pa's out at the tavern, prolly' with his buddies, and that Ma is at home, cookin' an' worryin' 'bout me, as usual. Once there, I open the door and walk in, takin' off my hat in the process. I then go check the kitchen fer Ma. As expected, she's there, cooking us a meal. 'Cause I'd got home later than normal, she was almost done. Hearin' my footsteps, she turns around, walks towards me and scoops me inta' a big ole bear hug. After almost suffocatin', I ask her, "What's fer dinner, Ma?" She responds by grabbin' me a bowl an' ploppin' a moderate amount o' stew in it. She sets it on the table with a smile as I pull out a chair an' take a seat. She grabs two more bowls o' that stew an' sets 'em on the other side of the small wooden surface. Takin' a seat herself, Ma finally talks ta' me, "How was yer day, kid?" She always seems ta' call me that, like she's my pa or somethin'. I reply after takin' another bite o' stew, "It was perty good, yers?" She takes a quick look at the empty seat an' the missin' pair o' boots at the door. "You seen yer pa?" I shoot her a look that'd get me killed if Pa were here. "Nah, I ain't seen 'im since he left fer the bar las' night" She falls silent at that response with an expression I can't read. Now that I'm thinkin' bout it, he's  prolly stayin in a hotel with one o' them workin' ladies, and I'm perty sure Ma's thinkin the same thing. We trudge on with dinner in tense silence as the remaining bowl o' stew grows cold. In the silence, I rush finishin' my dinner and check my old, beat up watch; it's 6:35. As I pull on my boots and start out the door, I announce, "Me an' my friends planned on hangin' out near 7, I'll be back by 10" Ma mumbles back, "Ok, be safe" as I wave bye an' close the door. <br/>      O' course, that was a lie, I don't got no friends. Bein' honest, I wanna see that boy from the tavern, sum'n bout him makes me wanna see 'im again. Trudgin' up to the barroom, I notice that the fear I had earlier'd vanished and was replaced with sum'n else- is that excitement? <br/>      Strollin' in, I listen for the boy. No one seems to bat an eye at a 14 year old enterin the bar, mostly 'cause they're all either too drunk to notice, makin' a ruckus, or they're too busy tryna' stop that ruckus. Over the post happy hour clammer, I hear his voice, clear an' strong. I push through the crowd towards his voice, and I find him in a clearing. no one's really payin any attention to 'im, so I take a front seat. I sit on the floor, legs crossed, and I listen to his singin' till he packs up an' gets ready ta' leave. As he packs up, I leave like before.<br/>This goes on fer a couple o' weeks, til he decides he wants ta' know the person that's been watchin' 'im sing every night. While packin' his stuff, he says, "Hey, don't leave, I wanna talk" I hum in response and I decide ta' play it cool with him.</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Meeting Willie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This is unfinished haha; You meet willie :)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I look at him, almost afraid to look him in the eye. It's kinda weird, considerin' I been watchin' 'im sing fer a couple o' weeks now. I hum quizzically. He says, "Thanks fer watchin' me, wanna hang out sometime?" I say, "sure" He asks, "Tomorrow, near lunch?" "Mhm, seeya-" "Willie" he interrupts, "Willie Nelson" I get back to my sentence, "Alrighty, seeya Willie" I neglect ta' tell 'im my name, it might be good conversation when we're hangin out tomorrow.<br/>      It's about 11:45 am, on a Sunday and I'm outside the tavern. I'd be in church, but Ma hasn't seen Pa in a while, so she's stayin home til he comes back. Y'see, he came back a couple o' days after I saw Willie sing the first time, but he went out again and hasn't been back since. Bein' honest, I don't care all that much, the onl' thing botherin' me bout this is the stress it's puttin' on Ma, and all the wasted bowls o' food she puts out fer 'im.</p>
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